Bad Idea
by Winter Ashby
Summary: Eric and Jackson argue about what to do next. 'You're not the boss of me' ... 'Wanna bet' [Eric & Jackson] WARNING: SLASHish


**Title:** Bad Idea**  
Author:** Winter Ashby _(rosweldrmr)_  
**Disclaimer:** Flight 29 Down was created by Stan Rogow & D.J. MacHale, and is the property of Discovery Kids, of which I have no affiliation. This is for entertainment purposes only. I receive no monetary renumeration for this or any other fanfiction that I've written. **  
Rating: **T for adult themes  
**Warnings**: If you find the idea of SLASH, or GAY-ness disgusting, then stop reading.**  
Summary:** Eric and Jackson argue about what to do next. 'You're not the boss of me' ... 'Wanna bet?' (Eric & Jackson) WARNING: SLASHish  
**Timeline**: This takes place after the finale with Abby, Mel, Jackson and Eric traveling across the island.**  
Authors Notes: **Be warned. This is NOT canon. Jackson & Mel and Nathan & Daley will **NOT **be getting together in this. This is for kittycat77, who requested an Eric/Jackson fic in a review for my Eric/Nathan fic.

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"You're not the boss of me!" Eric didn't sound at all convincing about this as Jackson towered over him. Eric was wearing is ever-present 'yeah-I-said-it-so-what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it?' look. But still, his voice cracked and his hand shook. He held the strap of his backpack, white-knuckled and fumed. 

"Wanna bet?" Jackson leaned in a little more, his best 'I'm-the-boss-of-everyone' face firmly in place.

"Come on, guys. Can't we just decide already?" Mel called from somewhere behind them, near the tinkle of the stream they'd been following for the past two days as it curved near the break of the tree-line to the beach.

It was three weeks ago that they left the camp, with Abby in the lead. But now that they'd made it to what they presumed was the other side of the island, and still found no trace of the pilot or the first party, there was a clash of power.

Abby wanted to keep moving, keep circling the beach 'till they ended up back at the camp, or found the others. Jackson wanted to head for the heart of the island, incase there was any kind of civilization there. Mel wanted to do whatever Jackson wanted to do. And Eric, Eric just wanted to get one night of sleep without waking up to find one of Jackson's arms draped over his chest.

It was unnerving. On many levels.

They fought more, what with Jackson always thinking he was in charge, just because he was the biggest.

"I don't do things just because Jackson tells me to. I came out here to get away from rules and punishment and all that garbage. You guys just make up your minds! Are we gonna keep following the beach, or head into the jungle?" Eric flung his bag against a large rock and glared, as best he could with his current sleep-deprivation, at Jackson – who looked unphased, agonizingly so.

"It's up to you." Abby finally butt in, the mighty hand of the kinda-crazy that was more insistent than Mel's gentle nagging. "I wanna follow the beach, but Captain Jackson and Mel want to go inland, so it's up to you."

"I thought we gave up on democracy." Eric whined and ran a hand threw his hair; he lost his hat a week ago in a freak storm. Naturally, he blamed Jackson. It seemed to be working well for Eric to blame all natural disasters and other universal calamities on Jackson.

It was his fault the plane crashed. If Mel hadn't wanted him to come, and spent the extra money to 'sponsor' him none of this would have happened. It was Jackson's fault that they were hungry, because he ate too much. It was Jackson's fault that Eric was alive, because he wrestled him out of the way of a freak rock-slide. Eric didn't think he'd ever forgive Jackson for that one, or for taking so long to finally climb off him.

He had _nightmares_ about Jackson's body laying over his for a week.

He didn't get much sleep now-a-days. It was funny how he missed something he never really considered he could lose.

Like his mind.

He lost that too. About four days ago when he woke up to find Jackson sprawled over him and instead of pushing him off, like he _always_ did, he just turned his head to rest against one of Jackson's rather large arms and slept like a baby for an hour before the sun rose.

But denial was working well for him, until now.

"You have to decide, Eric." Mel pleaded with him, her hat still hanging from her neck. He wanted to strangle her with it. Not because he hated her, but because he hated everything.

"Fine, alright." It really was too easy to convince him. All it took was the idea that Jackson might punch him in the face, again, and he made up his mind. "Let's stay to the shore." Just for spite.

"Wait, that doesn't work. Now we're tied." Mel and her 'logic'.

"But I thought you said it was up to me. And I want to keep following the beach." He did that thing with his face when he knew he was being an ass, but he didn't care. He saw Jackson ball his fist.

"I thought you said you wanted to come because you wanted to find out where that chicken came from." Jackson pointed out, his jaw tight and his stupid memory.

Damn it.

"Yeah, I did – do. But we'll have better luck looking along the beach. People always settle next to the shore so they can go fishing and stuff."

"No they don't! They build houses on land that _isn't_ sand. And the walk to the beach." Eric wondered who would've gotten a better grade in geography if they hadn't ended up here.

"So, they'd still be near the beach, right?" Eric looked to Abby for help.

She shrugged. "I don't know. What do you think, Mel?"

"I think I'm sick of arguing. Let's just follow the beach." She shrugged and looked sheepishly at Jackson, "At least that way we'll end up back with the others if we don't find anything and not be lost in the jungle." She was easy to break. Just a few days of endless fighting, botched logic, and Eric's determination to fail as miserably at this as he did with everything else, and he'd gotten Jackson all alone on his island of 'let's go inland so we can get lost'.

"Good, so it's settled, we keep to the shore." Abby fingered the knife at her belt and marched back threw the trees to the beach.

Eric could hear the waves and dull sounds of not being rescued.

He hated being right.

He resigned himself then, to dying on the island.

"Fine, you all stay where's its safe, but I'm telling you, if we went inland we'd find people. That chicken had to come from somewhere." Jackson turned his back on the beach and the waves and the setting sun and headed for the trees in the distance.

"Where're you going?" Eric hated the way he sounded like he cared.

"To get some dinner. I'm sick of rotten bananas and minnows."

"Oh, I'll go with you." Mel offered, already following behind him.

"No!"

Eric drew back, as did Mel, at the tone. It was even more harsh that usual.

"Oh, okay. Just, be careful." Mel scurried past Eric on the way to the beach. He could already see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Eric didn't really particularly care, one way or the other, but making girls cry wasn't something he was fond of.

"Nothing, what's wrong with you?"

"Oh, I don't know, let me see. I'm stranded on a deserted island with a bunch of middle school kids who can't even pick a mango without some kind of melodrama. And now that I finally got away from the Crusoes' back at camp, I'm stuck sleeping in the same tent with a giant ape who seems to think that I'm his own personals cuddle bunny!"

Eric could feel his face warm from the familiar indignation that flooded over his cheeks and stained his skin red. It wasn't blush. It was anger.

Or so he told himself.

Over and over again.

Jackson just stared at him, like he wasn't even there.

"I don't cuddle." He said finally, after he'd had a long, too long, time.

"That's it? That's the best excuse you've got? You drape yourself over me at night, like some kind of human blanket. And all you're gonna say is 'I don't cuddle'?" Eric made his voice low and dull, they way he imagined Jackson was.

He was proud of his imitation.

"I don't, I'm just not used to sharing my sleeping space."

"I don't seem to remember any of the other members of camp waking up with you on top of them."

"I wasn't on top of you!" Jackson's hands were curled into tight fists. Eric winced; he could already feel the punch coming, even before he said a thing.

"Yeah, just like you didn't _like_ it!"

Wham.

Eric was on the ground, writhing in pain, but satisfied to know that at least he knew Jackson well enough now to know where the limit was.

"Don't you ever!" Jackson stood over Eric and pointed down at him, his hands quivering with repressed anger.

"Don't what?" Eric asked, pulling himself into a kneeling position, holding his jaw where the skin was starting to pucker. "Tell the truth?" He knew he shouldn't have. But in the end, he just wouldn't be Eric if he didn't push.

He stood and shoved a finger into Jackson's chest.

It was around that time that Eric considered perhaps it wasn't the best idea to get _that_ close to someone who could very well remove his limbs and beat him with them.

Incidentally, it was also at this point that Jackson batted Eric's puny finger away and grabbed two fists-full of Eric's shirt. He lowered his head and pulled Eric until he was just inches from his face. "You don't know what you're talking about." Then, he slammed Eric against a tree.

Eric sputtered and yelped at the pain of his head hitting the hard surface.

If you asked Eric now, now being years later living in his New York apartment, reading a newspaper article about the 10 year anniversary of when a group of kids who were discovered living on an island, he couldn't have told you why he did it. He couldn't even tell you now, with all those years of wisdom that time is supposed to bring, what made him think he could get away with it.

But for whatever reason, Eric, with all his bravado and swagger, didn't think (like usual) and just leaned in a little too far.

Too far, and let his lips touch Jackson's.

It was only a second. Just one, tiny, fraction of a second before Mel came tearing through the threes, first aid kit already open (Eric wondered later just how loud he cried out when his head hit the tree) and Jackson flung him back to the ground, a mouth-full of mud and a bruise that peppered his side black and blue then later green and yellow for a month.

The official story was that Eric pissed Jackson off, which was true, and that Jackson retaliated, which was true, and that Eric had it coming, which was probably true, and that Eric temporarily lost consciousness, which was only half false because he just temporarily went insane (which is almost the same thing as losing consciousness), and his head slumped forward.

That was the official story. The one they told Mel, and begged her not to tell anyone, which of course meant that ultimately everyone on the island, including the tribe of indigenous people they eventually found (they were inland, thank you very much) knew by the time they were rescued.

It wasn't until years later, after the rescue and a bit more of the 'growing up' and re-acclimating to civilization, real civilization not Daley-tyranny, that they saw a movie called Brokeback Mountain and sent 'joke' text messages to each other like, 'I can't quit you' and 'this is a one-shot deal'.

It was even longer for them to admit that all those nights after the 'incident' when they were still traveling the island, sharing a tent together that when Eric woke up not just draped, but wrapped up with Jackson, it wasn't just because it was winter and cold out.

Eric doesn't live alone in his New York apartment.

But he still wakes up with a human blanket that can tear him apart with his bare hands, if he was so inclined.

* * *

I don't know how I ended up doing slash for this fandom. I could just _hear _Eric in my head saying "You're not the boss of me" and then, everything else came from there.

Don't ask about the ending, I have no idea where it came from. For that matter, I have no idea where this entire fic came from. I don't usually do requests, but I was really bored today and this is what decided to come out. Don't blame me. Love me, praise me, worship me for the tweeny-slash GOD that I am. J/K, no but seriously it's strange to find myself in a fandom where the ONLY things I've written are slash. Oh well, I guess that's just because all the guys are so awesome and all the girls are unworthy of the greatness, besides Corbin Bleu, the only girl worthy of him is me.

and... ZOMG SE, look at the category! HUMOR. I did it, finally! Yay for me.


End file.
